The Strings
by The Typing Cat
Summary: Some ties in life are too intricate to sunder


_A/N_ : Hello, and welcome to another random drabble. A quick warning: This story deals with adultery (which I don't really condone), because I wanted t try my hand at writing a fic on the topic. Just letting you know, in case it's not your cup of tea. Read on, then.

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 ** _The Strings:_**

 _By the time you swear you're his,_  
 _Shivering and sighing._  
 _And he vows his passion is,_  
 _Infinite, undying._  
 _Lady make note of this -_  
 _One of you is lying_

-Dorothy Parker

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From the second his head dipped to hers and their lips touched, he knew it was wrong. It was wrong because the glittering band on her finger was engraved with another man's initials. It was wrong because the surname that slipped as throaty murmur past his mouth and into the one slightly parted beneath it was as unfamiliar to him as the room that sheltered them. Wrong because the body into which he sank would be a brand forever seared into his flesh, an ugly scar he'd be forced to nurse for the miserable existence that would undoubtedly follow. And, Merlin help him, he didn't care.

Her mouth was a drop of Firewhisky on a bleak winter night, a sweet inferno that gently lured and lulled until he was too inebriated to struggle against it. She gasped as he traced the fullness of her lower lip with his tongue, and staggered against the stark wall behind her as he sank deeper into her. The hands that once listlessly hung at her sides while he greedily devoured, rose to tangle in the halo of messy hair on his head. For one heart-wrenching moment, he truly believed she would wrench them apart. She didn't. Her fingers speared through the thick locks, clung so tightly he could feel the cool metal band on one hand digging into his skull, and her mouth softened beneath his.

Not caring about the thick glass that suddenly pressed into his cheek or the spindly frame that cut deep into the bridge of his nose, he caressed the delicate line of her jaw- and groaned when her tongue shyly rose to meet his. The earth beneath them could've split and he wouldn't have stopped. It was too late to chide himself for seeking her out knowing full well that she wanted nothing to do with him, too late to take back a kiss that he should've never initiated. Nothing mattered but them, the languid melding of lips, mouths and tongues. Not even the niggling voice at the back of his skull insisting he would later regret his actions.

A tremor descended through Harry's spine while the ink-stained pads of his fingers worked to release the tie that kept her hair gathered at the back of her head. A few tugs saw the glossy mass released, sending it toppling across the front of her green robes in ripples. It was silk against his knuckles as he tucked it behind her ear, allowing his thumb to linger at the curve of her neck. There was a burgeoning hunger in the sweetness of her mouth. It fueled the need that had been tightly coiled inside him since she'd first smiled at him across the quidditch pitch. He pressed harder, affixed his long frame to her slight one, and demanded more of the kiss. Her fingers jerked, the ring jabbing painfully at his scalp in the process, and she pulled away with a gasp.

He could feel his pulse throbbing against vulnerable places as he met her glassy-eyed stare, "I…I-"

"Um," Her hands protectively wrapped around her chest, shoulders sagging into the wall as she tried to put what little distance she could between them. "I think that m-maybe you should leave. P-please."

His heart clenched in his chest at the tone. It was all so curt, so final even as she quivered that he knew he would never again hear from her. He wasn't sure he could survive that.

"I…" He should've finally churned up some of the bravery that had made him so infamous and declared his undying love. What good would it do them, though? He was engaged to marry, and she had given up on him and settled for a man who'd did as he promised. He should've confessed he loved her. Instead, the words died in his throat, choked by tightening muscles and desperation. "I just don't want to lose you, Cho."

"You're a manipulative bastard, you know that?" One hand lowered protectively over her stomach, even as her eyes narrowed down to slits. "Go home, Harry. You wouldn't want to keep the love of your life waiting."

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A/N: A big thank you to the people who've read my previous fics and have always been sweet and encouraging, and sorry for the long wait on updates. I'm working on a daunting personal project. If you're curious, the story began with chapter II ('Over Tea')of the one-shot collection that I have up called 'Lucubration'.


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